


Weightless

by weareboundless



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist!Harry, M/M, artist!zayn, mentions of jumping off bridges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weareboundless/pseuds/weareboundless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He didn’t look concerned or nervous like someone who was witnessing a person about to jump off a bridge. He looked rather calm, almost as if he understood.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or Harry in a rut and looking for inspiration on the side of a bridge when he meets Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weightless

Suddenly everything stopped. Time slowed. Worries faded. It grew peaceful. The air whooshing was just a soft hum in the background. It was quiet. There were no thoughts running through the boys mind for once. What felt like minutes was only a matter of seconds. Would the impact in the end be worth this? Would it be worth this moment of complete euphoric bliss?

Feet teetering on the edge, he had yet to actually take the plunge. He knew what falling felt like, he knew what to expect except this time there would be no cord to yank him back before he hit the ground. This time there would be nothing to stop the fall and he would smash into the concrete. There would be no give, just his body crushing upon impact. Would he actually feel the pain? Or would it be so fast his brain wouldn’t have time to process it before he was already dead?

The wind whipped his curls back and forth wildly, bright quizzical green eyes hidden behind the lids as long lashes brushed right above his cheekbones. He wasn’t dressed in anything fancy, just a simple everyday outfit. No point in getting dressed up just to die, might as well go in something comfortable, right? A loose fitting plain shirt covered in splatters and smudges from paint that he rarely parted with. Plain jeans and tattered Converse, the boy wasn’t the type to dress up really, but then of course can’t expect much more from a kid who walks around with paint smudges on his face and arms all of the time.

Bright red smudged right above his left eyebrow and decorating his knuckles while white smeared over his right cheek and speckled over his arms. Yellow and green paint caught under the brunette’s nails, not that it really mattered at this point. His knuckles were a ghostly white almost matching the color of the paint on his arms as he clutched the small wire cable. It was the only thing separating him from teetering on the ledge and completely turning weightless. Nerves sent tingles throughout the slender boy’s body as his eyes fluttered open looking at the ground below him. The sky was bursting into a frenzy of colors. Oranges, reds, yellows, random gray streaks here and there as darkness was trying to settle in and steal away the earth’s natural color. It didn’t really matter at this point either though, color’s had already taken over and consumed the boy’s vision. Yellows, blues, reds, oranges, and white. Lots and lots of white just to add that airy feeling into the art; everything was about the next project.

White was pure, white was airy, white was light and that is exactly what he needed. He desired, he needed to somehow capture that feeling of being weightless. Without that feeling then nothing else would matter, it wouldn’t make sense. He found himself caught in a stale mate and needed something. He needed inspiration. The curly headed lad didn’t want to die by any means, some days he did, but today was not one of those days, not that anyone would believe him if they actually saw him leaning over the ledge. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe in a month he would come back, put himself in this same position, and let go of the cable, but not today. Not right now, his focus was solely on the colors that were flashing past his vibrant eyes.

His concentration barely allowed him to register that someone was speaking to him. His head turned to the side to see another male standing a few feet away. He didn’t look concerned or nervous or tense like a normal person would be if they saw someone who was about to jump off of a bridge. He looked quite calm almost as if he understood, the green-eyed boy just cocked his head to the side ever so slightly “What?” he asked as his eyebrows furrowed together. This stranger was gorgeous and the teetering lad couldn’t deny it.

His skin was deeply tanned, but it didn’t appear to be from spending too much time in the sun. His black hair and redwood colored eyes tipped off that this was just his skins hue. The boy pulled off the grunge look quite well with his large pea coat, ripped up jeans, and worn out boots. The wind recklessly tousled his black hair while some stubble adorned his cheeks. All the lad was missing was a cigarette, but surely he had a pack hiding in a pocket somewhere. Only dark colors could be used for the stranger. Blacks, grays, browns, and maybe an off white to add a bit of color, he wasn’t just made of dark colors, but stark white would be too much. There was a possibility that gray mixed with a bit of off white could create that smokey haze that most likely surrounded the male wherever he went.

“How long have you been working?” he repeated his question, his voice matched his appearance perfectly. Deep and smooth, the dark eyed boy followed together with ease, everything about him fit together perfectly. No random awkward traits thrown in too disrupt the mysterious and dark air that he exerted. He was an artist, recognition sparked in the younger boy’s eyes as it clicked in his head “two or three weeks now” he said watching the other’s eyebrows raise. A low whistle escaped his lips as he shook his head “after about a week I would have already been out here, looks like you’ve got more patience than me,” the stranger stated. The conversation was calm, almost as if old friends and not two strangers who have yet to actually seek each other’s names were exchanging it. A light banter took place between the two that really held no significance. Pastels, light colors, maybe a hint of gray in the mix. Pink, yellow, tan, and just a light streak of gray here and maybe a bit there. The conversation was light and simple, however, the boy never gave away too much he always held just a bit back, which is where the gray would come in.

He held on to his mysterious and aloof presence while still talking about himself. The curly headed lad found himself completely intrigued with the older boy. His original project lost in the back of his mind as he found himself surrounded by the colors of this boy. The setting around them started to darken as streetlights began to flicker on the younger boy still balancing on the ledge, oranges, yellows, blacks, darker grays, a bit of tan here and there with a streak of off white.  He could see it splayed out on a canvas with little effort, but as they continued to talk his thoughts, the colors began to shift.

Red- passion, lust, anger. Blue- calming, relaxing, euphoric bliss. Purple- that perfect balance that can only be achieved when two bodies link in harmony. Black- just a touch of chaos in the middle of this all. This stranger didn’t seem like the type to caress and take things slow, he was the type to throw you up against a wall, full of passion and rough actions, it was the only plausible option that the curly headed boy could come up with. Streetlights were the only things keeping the boy’s faces lit up besides the stray car that passed every now and again never stopping at the sight of a boy who at any second could throw himself off the ledge plummeting to his death.

However, in a matter of seconds it no longer mattered as those tattered converse were no longer dipping over the ledge and were placed firmly on the ground far too entranced by the mysterious boy. “Did you figure it out?” the dark skinned boy asked. The simple action of the boy's tongue swiping over his lips kept the green eyed boy transfixed. The slender boy just shrugged as his hands disappeared into his pockets and in that moment, he made the conscious decision to take this boy home. Of course, the dark skinned boy could be some sort of murderer or a rapist or a number of other terrible things, but none of those crossed his mind as he started walking. “Well come on then, I’m Harry by the way” the curly headed boy said with a wide grin walking backwards watching the other boy. The dimples in his cheeks stood out just like the red paint against his pale skin. The older boy watched Harry for only a moment before a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips and he began to follow.

“Zayn Malik” 


End file.
